


I'll see you again

by samariumwriting



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Diplomacy, F/M, Fluff, Letters, Long-Distance Relationship, Post-Canon, Trans Claude von Riegan, Wyverns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25671805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samariumwriting/pseuds/samariumwriting
Summary: When the war ends, Claude closes off a little. Petra breaks down his walls and swears that, come what may, she will support all he aims at for the future.Parting when the time comes is hard, but that parting holds a promise: they will be together again, one day.
Relationships: Petra Macneary/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	I'll see you again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skylark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/gifts).



> This is the fic I wrote for the Rest Day zine's giveaway, for Ciry! They gave me an UTTERLY fantastic prompt that I procrastinated on real hard because I really wanted to get it right. But it's finally (!) here and I hope you enjoy

The war was at an end, and with that, so too did many other things.

Petra was busy attempting to tie up loose ends. Unfortunately, there were plenty of those, and a lot of them involved the remaining Empire lords. Tying them meant spending long hours around Garreg Mach’s conference table, trying to work out which promises were empty and which held any kind of weight.

Her goal, before leaving, was to assure Brigid’s continued independence. The Professor- Archbishop, or whatever title they preferred these days, had given her their personal guarantee that Brigid was safe, but that meant next to nothing in the southernmost reaches of the Empire.

“If your promise is so sincere,” she continued, her hands resting on the heavy table in front of her, “then you would be able to produce a real settlement.”

The noble in question shrank back a little in his seat, his bluff called. Honestly, she didn’t know why he’d bothered to travel all this way if he had nothing to show for it. It was like he thought Petra foolish, but her youth had nothing to do with her negotiating skills. Surely, in a continent that had just been turned upside down by leaders in their early twenties, he could have learned that by now.

Either way, it wasn’t good enough. She needed a firm guarantee of the noble’s sentiments, and he hadn’t produced one. She needed words on paper, with a signature and an intricately embossed wax seal. Without one, she knew the nobles here would turn their back on words in a moment.

It was easy to falsify what was said behind closed doors, after all, and infinitely more possible to have contrary discussions behind a different set. Petra was too used to their tricks to fall for it.

“What would you suggest be contained in such a settlement?” the noble asked. Finally. It had only taken them nine hours of on and off discussion (interspersed with a suspicious amount of breaks) to reach this point.

“A commitment to sending an ambassador to Brigid,” she answered, “and the acknowledgement of an open position for a Brigidian ambassador to stay in your lands when travelling to Fódlan.”

It was simple enough, and there was no real reason for her request to be denied if they actually wanted the peace they described, but the noble and his advisors ummed and aahed over the words for a little too long for Petra’s tastes. “I think it would be best to close our discussions for today,” she decided, as orange light began to slip into the room. Sunset already. “We can resume tomorrow, when you have had  _ more _ time to deliberate.”

Fortunately, none of them objected to that, and Petra was finally able to stand from that seat (by the earth were her shoulders stiff) and escape out of the door. She’d return again tomorrow, but for now she was free.

She made her way down the corridor, intending to head to the dining hall and grab some dinner. She needed to decompress before she even thought about working again. Hopefully, there’d be someone willing to have a nice, lighthearted conversation with her that  _ didn’t _ involve seven layers of meaning.

Petra felt something warm burgeon in her chest when she ran almost directly into Claude as he turned the corner, his nose in a book. He must have come from the library. “Claude!” she greeted, looking at him with a sunny smile. It was good to be able to drop the false platitudes of diplomacy.

“Petra,” he replied, returning her smile with something decidedly less genuine. A hard feeling prickled at the back of her neck. “How was today?”

“Dry as always,” she said, and Claude chuckled. “We will be continuing tomorrow. I am not particularly looking forward to it.”

“I guess that’s just how it goes,” Claude said with a shrug. The prickling feeling continued. “My apologies, but I can’t stop and chat. There’s this merchant who said he wanted to talk to me, and- well, you get the picture. Another time!”

With a wave and not even a second thought for what her reply could be, Claude turned another corridor and breezed away. Petra tried to hold in a sigh, but the halls were empty and she couldn’t disguise it once she was sure Claude was out of earshot.

She knew, logically, that she couldn’t have done anything to upset Claude or push him away from her. He was more up front than that, and if she’d said the wrong thing she trusted him to tell her. So that couldn’t be it, and yet…

He’d been avoiding her, of late. He always had an excuse to duck out of a conversation or avoid a potential activity. Instead, he buried himself in books and scrolls and letter writing. Numbers crawled down the margins of every sheet of parchment on his person, and his mind was constantly off in another world.

Petra couldn’t lie to herself; it was hurtful. She’d felt, ever since their Academy days, that she and Claude shared something important. In the months following her return to Fódlan, that had blossomed into something even more. But now, it was as if Claude had pulled the curtain back across him in the same way he did for almost everyone else.

She couldn’t get it out of her mind, even as she went to the dining hall and had a perfectly normal conversation with Cyril, nor as she had a late evening tea with Marianne before bed. It swirled around in her thoughts as she laid in bed, unable to sleep.

Enough was enough. She stood up, pulled on an extra layer over her arms, and took the short walk to Claude’s room. He’d be awake.

He was, and he seemed surprised to see her when he opened the door. “Petra,” he said, his voice soft. “I wasn’t expecting to see you at this time.”

“I was struggling with sleep,” she admitted. There was no shame in it; it wasn’t as if Claude was even trying just yet. “May I come in? Just quickly.”

Claude glanced around behind him. “Sorry,” he said. “Room’s a bit of a mess. Maybe another time?”

“If you will make time for me,” she replied, not bothering to keep the slightly pointed tone out of her voice.

Claude sighed. He knew what this was about, clearly, though the acknowledgement that this wasn’t just in her head didn’t make Petra feel much better. “I can make time for you,” he said eventually. “Tomorrow afternoon, once your talks are done?”

She offered him a smile, and he returned it with a genuine one. It was good to see. “Tomorrow,” she agreed. “I’ll see you out by the wyvern stables.”

Not even waiting for a potential objection, Petra walked back down the hallway and to her own room. This time, when her head hit the pillow, she slept a little easier.

* * *

Flying was something Petra had always enjoyed, and flying with Claude was no different. They didn’t say much as they skimmed over the treetops, down the mountainside, and up almost to the northern coast of Fódlan. It was a long flight, but Claude never suggested stopping. Whenever she looked over at him, there was an easy smile on his face, something more carefree than he’d worn in weeks.

When they stopped, they were in the absolute middle of nowhere. Petra genuinely hadn’t seen a single sign of human life around them as they descended, which meant they were well and truly alone.

It also meant Claude no longer had the excuse of interruption to hide any longer. “What is going on?” she asked. When Claude doesn’t say anything, she continues. “I know you like to keep all your cards close to your chest,” she said. “But please. If you want to tell anyone about this...I hope you know you can trust me.”

Claude lets out a shaky sigh, leaning back against the tree trunk behind them both. “I’m going home to my family,” he said. “My birth family, that is. And I’m...nervous, I guess.”

“Will your family not accept you back?” she asked.

Claude shifted under her gaze. She was getting close. “They probably will,” he said. “There are just- some other problems. Complicated things.”

“I happen to be quite good with complicated things,” she said. “If you tell me about them, I could lend a hand.”

Claude ran his hand through his hair and let out a small sigh. “Alright, you’ve got me,” he said. “You get the truth. The full truth. Just- don’t tell anyone else, okay?”

Personally, Petra thought that there was nothing in Fódlan - in the world, even - that Claude’s family could be that would prompt anyone to reject him at this point. But Claude, for all his boundless optimism, always held his cards close to his chest. She had to - and did - respect that. “It is between us,” she said.

“I’m returning home to the royal family of Almyra,” he started. Somehow, the words were not as much of a surprise as they strictly should have been. “I intend to win the trust of my people and the favour I need to govern them.”

“That sounds like something you have plenty of practise with,” she said.

Claude nodded, but his face didn’t betray confidence. “I don’t know if they’ll accept me as who I am at first. I didn’t leave Almyra as a prince, but I’ll return as one. But...I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get their approval so I can fulfil my dreams. Even if that means abandoning some of the things I’ve had here in Fódlan.”

Petra had known, of course, that Claude was going to Almyra. His general origins were as clear as day, and had been for moons now. But the way Claude phrased his explanation betrayed just how taxing - or perhaps even dangerous - it was going to be. “I wish you did not have to go on your own,” she said.

Claude paused for a moment, and then let out an almost incredulous laugh. “Of all the things, that’s what you have to say?” he asked.

“I worry about you,” she said firmly, trying to fully catch his eyes. He relented, a soft expression on his face. Skies above, she’d missed seeing him open up to her. She hadn’t realised just how much. “You won’t have the support there that you do here.”

Claude shrugged. “I didn’t have that support when I arrived in Fódlan either,” he said. “I think I can manage.”

Perhaps he could, but it wouldn’t be easy. Sometimes, Petra wished he  _ would _ take the easier option. Just this once, to set everyone’s minds at ease, and also to give himself the break he very clearly deserved. He’d just finished saving all of Fódlan from whatever threat Nemesis represented, at the end of a road that was eight years in the making, and now he was off to stick his neck out somewhere else.

“I will still worry,” she said. At this point, she was sure she’d always worry for Claude, just as she was sure he always worried for her. “I know you can handle yourself, but still I wish you didn’t have to.”

“Unfortunately I do,” Claude said. “I have allies - Nader, my parents. Some of my siblings will be pretty friendly too, push comes to shove.”

“I would feel better if I could be there myself,” she said. “Maybe I could be? For my own peace of mind.”

In all honesty, Petra knew she didn’t want to go with him, but she wanted to suggest it anyway. If she could say anything to just let Claude know that, unconditionally, she supported him, she’d do it.

Claude shook his head. “You have things to do here too,” he said. “I can’t take you away from all of that. We  _ both _ have important futures ahead of that, and while I’d love to have your company, I can’t ask you to put me over Brigid.”

“Thank you,” she said. She offered a smile to him, and his returning one was almost sad.

“I’m going to miss you,” he said. She sighed and nodded, reaching out for his hand. He took it, squeezing almost so tightly it hurt. His usual gesture there would be to let go, to smile and crack a joke and brush the brief vulnerability away just to make her feel a little better about all of this, but this time he didn’t.

This time, their hands stayed joined between them. Petra wished she’d never have to let go, but she knew it just wasn’t an option.

“We need to talk about what the future will look like,” she said, after a while of just listening to the sounds of nature around them. Claude nodded.

“I want to keep whatever this is between us,” he said. “If you’re open to that, that is. I understand if you’re not, with everything that’ll separate us for...who knows how long, really.”

“I want us to keep that going too,” she confirmed. She could imagine a life without Claude, yes, but that didn’t mean she wanted to if she didn’t have to. There was a connection between them she’d never felt with anyone else. “It may be difficult, but I want to try.”

“I’ll do all I can,” Claude promised. “I’ll write, I’ll send you the soppiest love poetry you’ve ever read. I’ll send you gifts- what do you want? You can have the pick of Almyra’s finest market town.”

Petra laughed. “I will accept the poetry,” she said. “When it comes to a gift...I think I trust you to know what I like.”

“Ooh, high praise!” Claude said. Even with the levity in his tone, there was a weight to his words, his smile. “I’ll be on the lookout for something perfect. Until the time when the wind settles and we can see each other again.”

“And there will be a next time,” Petra said firmly. Claude could be a slippery figure, but she had no intention to let him dip out of her sight.

“Absolutely,” Claude confirmed. “Next time we see each other, I’ll be visiting Brigid on a diplomatic visit as Prince Khalid of Almyra.”

“I will hold you to that,” she said with a smile.

“Good,” Claude said. “Because it’s a promise.”

* * *

Time moved on, and negotiations came to a close. Eventually, it was time for Petra to return to Brigid and lead her country, finally. It was a return that was long in the making, and yet...she couldn’t help but feel bittersweet as she moved to depart.

“I suppose this is goodbye,” Claude said. His hands were clasped in front of him, and Petra wanted nothing more than to pull them open, hug him so tightly that the feeling wouldn’t leave her for the whole flight home.

But she couldn’t really do that. Not in front of everyone else. So she settled on a small smile, one she hoped he would remember as a promise. “It is, for now,” she said. “But I will write, I swear to you.”

“I’ll miss that funny little smile of yours,” Claude said. He smiled his own small, secretive grin in return. He meant  _ I’ll miss you, _ but he wouldn’t say it. Not in front of a crowd like this.

She did the same, of course, so it doesn’t hurt, not exactly. But it does have her wishing, just a little, for next time. A next time when they’ll be able to be open with each other, finally. A next time when everything they say  _ shows _ everything they mean.

Petra got onto her wyvern and turned away. She tried not to look back, but it was hard. The little golden speck on the ground she knew was Claude stayed down there longer than anyone else, watching the skies.

* * *

‘Dear Claude,  
I hope you receive this letter - the messenger I gave it to had thorough instructions, but the skies are always a force to be reckoned with and who knows what will happen? If you  _ do _ receive this, know that I have arrived home well and am settling into the swing of things better than I predicted. You were right, as you so often tend to be.  
My grandfather asks after your health, and I do too, of course. I hope you are well, and progressing speedily with whatever it was you were doing - you never did tell me what all those documents were for.  
I will admit that my heart aches a little just thinking of you. This is only the beginning of what will prove to be a long separation, but I already wish it was over.  
Ever yours,  
Petra.’

‘Dearest Petra,  
I did indeed receive your letter - the messenger was a little windswept, but he got it to me in good time! He was very keen for me to reply and get this back to you as soon as possible, you sure know how to pick your messengers.  
You can inform your grandfather that I am in good health; no foul plague has befallen Fódlan in the scarce handful of weeks of your absence. May it stay that way, because I don’t fancy being stuck here in this stuffy library much longer. The new librarian Seteth appointed won’t even let me leave the door open to let air in, in case the books get too much light on them! I understand, but I’d sure like to feel like I’m not dying when I work.  
Fortunately, I’m nearly done. From then, the distance between us will be physically even greater, and I will miss being able to get letters to you with any kind of speed. I’ll send a messenger when I arrive back home and a full update - from then, you’ll be able to get word to me once more.  
I miss you as well. Sometimes I don’t think of it, and my heart doesn’t hurt too badly, but then my eyes fall on a spot where we’ve sat together, or I see a weapon you used to wield in training, and it hits me all at once. We haven’t even been separated too long, and I’m already a sap!  
I hope you’re ready for the poetry,  
Claude.’

‘Wonderful Petra,  
I have returned home to Almyra. Reception has been better than I expected, though not as well as I’d hoped when at my most optimistic. I have some alliances already formed, and with a little time I should be able to secure my position. You know me - I don’t set out to do anything impossible.  
I miss you. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating. I miss you.  
Ever yours,  
Claude.’

‘Dear Claude,  
Your last letter seemed a little rushed. I know you assured me that you are perfectly okay and settling in better than expected, but that doesn’t mean that you’re settling in  well. I know you, and I know what you said to me before you left. If there’s something wrong that I can help with in any way, please do not hesitate to ask.  
I cannot exactly fly to your side, but please keep me updated as much as you can. I worry for you, and your health, as far away as you are. My advice may be of no use, delayed as it will inevitably be, but if I can offer you words of comfort then I will do so gladly.  
When I write these letters, I like to imagine you reading it over my shoulder, the way you used to when you pretended you didn’t know the answers to a test back in our school days. I try to imagine what you will say in response, how your lips might quirk upwards, but I doubt I have it spot on. You’ll just have to make your reply more detailed next time.  
Sending strength,  
Petra.’

‘Dearest Petra,  
I was happy to hear your grandfather made a full recovery - after nearly a month without a letter from you, I will admit I began to worry. In the year since our separation, you’ve never been known to miss a letter. That isn’t pestering you for more, I’m just happy to hear you’re doing well.  
I’m glad you enjoyed the poetry! Had I all the time in the world, I would compose you another. However, I fear the best use of my time would be to bend your ear about a particular problem I’ve had lately.  
The position of crown prince is close enough I can touch it, but to make my dreams a reality I have to overcome a few obstacles that still stand in my way. An older brother of mine, a competitor of sorts to the throne, has really dug his heels in lately. If he becomes king, my father’s health ailing as it is, I may get kicked out of Almyra altogether.  
I know that the affairs of my home aren’t any of your business, not exactly, but if you have any thoughts on a personal level, I would dearly love to hear them.  
Ever yours,  
Claude.’

‘Dear Claude,  
Given that my grandfather is well again, I think I’m in a position to offer this to you. If you feel able to do so, may I suggest that you visit Brigid? You could show off your connections to people from Almyra - perhaps even bringing someone along who stands to see it the most - and it never hurts to show the world the strength of our convictions.  
You do not have to accept, and I will admit that my aims in offering this are selfish at best. I would be very happy to see you again, once more at my side. Your smile is far harder to imagine with so great a distance between us.  
Sending affection,  
Petra.’

‘Darling Petra,  
That’s a wonderful suggestion, and I’ll be very happy to accept. Attached to this letter are a good dozen or so plans for the trip and how it could pan out. I’m happy for you to accept or reject any number of them - I’m just happy that I’ll get to see you again.  
It has been far too long since I last held you close. I’ve almost forgotten the rhythm of your heartbeat. But never fear; soon, I’ll be able to say all those embarrassing sentiments that cross my mind all hours of the day right to your face. I hope they’ll meet your expectations!  
With love,  
Claude.’

* * *

The breeze this high above the sea was bracing, but Claude couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. Every beat of his wyvern’s wings brought him ever closer to Petra again, and even if this was only a ‘diplomatic visit’ he was looking forward to it more than he could say.

He was sure his companion - an older half sister - knew something was up. He’d told her that he knew Petra, of course, and that they’d written to each other many times since Claude returned from Fódlan, but he hoped she couldn’t see through him. Either way, he just needed her to see that he was capable. Maybe  _ then _ she’d stop sitting on the fence in the succession issue and put her weight on his side.

Honestly, he had to hand it to Petra. If this mission was a success - and it was bound to be, because they all wanted the same thing - then he’d reap nothing but benefits from it. He couldn’t wait for it to begin.

When they landed at the appointed spot, the guides who’d met them at the southwestern coast of Fódlan led them towards the palace. At that point, Claude felt like his chest was going to burst in anticipation. Petra was  _ so close. _ If he wasn’t here for a purpose, he would have sprinted all the way there.

Claude hadn’t seen Petra in over a year and a half, and when he did...he tried very, very hard to keep his mouth from dropping open. He didn’t know if he succeeded.

She was stunning. Completely and utterly stunning, more than anyone else in the world. More than Claude even thought  _ possible. _ Her hair was longer than before, braided intricately with glinting stones. She was the picture of a young, beautiful queen, and when she  _ smiled… _ Claude was pretty sure his heart stopped at the sight of it.

It was almost hard to soak in the sights of the city as she showed them both around. They passed stunning buildings, clusters of animals Claude had never seen before, and a vibrant marketplace, yet the only thing he could think about was Petra. Petra, and the way she smiled as she showed them around, the pride in her voice, the adoration she clearly held for her home.

It was all Claude could do not to kiss her right there. But he knew he couldn’t, not yet.

Around everyone else, they had to keep things on the down low. Sure, maybe it was fine that people knew they were friendly, but if the truth of their relationship was known then the whole mission could be called a sham. He supposed it was, but it didn’t make the future bonds between Almyra and Brigid less sincere.

The restraint they had to show around other people made Claude yearn even more for what was to come. When night fell, he followed the directions Petra had murmured to him over their welcome feast. That was when the reunion really happened. Enthusiastic kisses, shy touches, endless smiles and laughter and words that flowed more easily than ever before.

He stayed, happier than he had been in months, until he could barely keep his eyes open. For a moment, he entertained the idea of staying, but he knew he couldn’t. With a heaviness to his steps, he returned to his own bedroom, leaving Petra to rest.

It became an easy routine for the duration of Claude’s stay in Brigid: close official interactions for the night, head to bed, change into something more comfortable, prepare for the next day, head to Petra’s room, talk until the early hours of the morning, go back to his own bedroom, and snatch as much sleep as he could for the next day. It was tiring, but it was so worth it.

It was...wonderful, being back by her side again. Claude had known from the beginning that he was going to miss her while they were apart for however long that would be, but the pain of their separation was greater than he could have imagined. But that was nothing, nothing at all, to the comfort he took alongside her once more.

Technically, they were both working, here in Brigid - each day was spent doing all the things Claude recognised as diplomacy. They visited beautiful spots, dined with important individuals, and spent  _ forever _ talking about how wonderful their respective countries were. Once or twice a day, he had to talk to his sister about their ‘strategy’, though as the visit went on she seemed to trust him more and more to get along with Petra.

He didn’t know how much she knew, but he could tell that she knew  _ something.  _ His sister was nothing if not frighteningly intelligent, and she’d known from the start that they used to be friends.

And, hey, he’d grown up with her. She knew him well enough to know how he acted around people he cared about, and there was no doubt that he cared immensely about Petra.

On the night before Claude and the rest of the Almyran delegation were due to leave, he hesitated when the time came for him to leave Petra’s chambers. After tonight, he wouldn’t get to be alone with her again for who knew how long, and there was a part of him that really, really wanted to take the risk.

“Can I stay?” he asked, his feet hovering just above the carpeted floor of Petra’s bedchambers. He looked back over his shoulder at Petra, and she smiled.

“I do not see why not,” she replied, opening her arms out again.

“I see a few reasons,” he said with a laugh. “Someone could find out, for one.”

“If someone knew, I would not mind,” Petra said, her voice softer than before. “I want to be near you. Just for tonight.”

“Just for tonight,” Claude echoed, swinging his body back onto the bed. Petra leant easily into his side, and Claude didn’t know how long they lay there before they drifted off to the sound of the other’s breathing. The moment felt like it lasted forever; in the best possible way, of course.

In the morning, Claude woke slowly. The sun came into Petra’s bedroom from a different direction compared to his own in Brigid’s palace, and for a moment it had him off-kilter, cautious.

The moment didn’t last. The second he heard Petra’s steady breathing next to him, felt the warm weight of her head on his shoulder, he relaxed. For just a minute, he watched her; the slow rise and fall of her chest, the gentle fluttering of her eyelids as she dreamt.

There was no point holding back the warm smile that spread onto his face at the sight of her. Claude reached his hand up slowly, letting his fingers fall into her hair and comb through it ever so gently.

Being careful was to no avail; almost immediately, Petra stirred, her brown eyes blinking open and staring up at him. “Good morning,” she murmured, leaning in closer. “I am not dreaming, am I?”

“Nope,” he replied, adjusting himself to be a little more uncomfortable under the sheets. “I’m here.”

“Good,” Petra said, her eyes closing again as he continued to run his fingers through her hair.

Claude used to spend most of his time staring up at the stars, hoping they could encourage him to keep moving on. Now, he felt more as if Petra was the sun, and his orbit had shifted undeniably and irreversibly (and who would want anything else?) towards her.

They drew out the dawn as long as they could feasibly excuse, staying in bed long after they would normally rise if they slept separately. In that moment, though, it didn’t matter that they could be exposing this diplomatic meeting between ‘friendly acquaintances’ as something far more; Claude was just happy to enjoy the time he had with Petra while he could.

Once they finally rose, parted ways, and came back together again for the final farewells, they couldn’t be too heartfelt - there were appearances to maintain, after all. But Claude felt confident in clasping Petra’s hand as tightly as he could when she came over to say goodbye.

“Farewell, and good wishes to you,” he said. “I’ll keep in touch. I promise.”

“I will hold you to that,” Petra said, her mouth quirking upwards just a little before he pulled away once more.

Willing himself to fly away was difficult, but Claude managed. He had a country to get back to; one he was now far more secure in with such a successful, positive diplomatic mission under his belt.

That said, he couldn’t help but glance back several times as they flew away. He looked until the bright spark that was the woman he loved faded from view and blurred into the landscape below them. “I’ll come back,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “I’ll see you again as soon as I can.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment. I also have a twitter @samariumwriting where I tweet a lot about fic stuff :)


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